Hand of Justice (Mara Brent Legal Thriller Series Book 3)

by Robin James

  My skin tingled. Nikki still hadn’t looked my way once during her entire testimony. What on earth was Elise talking about?

  “I don’t like this,” Hojo wrote on the notepad between us.

  “Ms. Sutter,” Elise said. “The drama with your brother’s addiction disease wasn’t the only reason you wanted to get out of Waynetown, was it?”

  “There were a lot of reasons I left,” she said. “I was studying photography. I had a friend in Seattle who had connections there. I thought I’d thrive better away from a small-town mentality. Start fresh.”

  “Nikki,” Elise said, dropping her voice. “I know this is painful. But it’s time for the truth to come out. If not now, when?”

  She tore the tissue in half.

  “Your Honor,” I rose.

  “Ms. Sutter,” Elise said. “Isn’t it true you had a falling out with Skylar Sutter before you left for Seattle?”

  “I don’t see why that matters,” Nikki said. Finally, she looked to me for help. Wherever Elise was going with this, it appeared Nikki didn’t want it to either. What on earth had she not told me?

  “Neither do I?” I said.

  “Again, the state has made wild accusations about my client’s relationship with both Skylar Sutter and Kevin Sutter. I believe this witness can shed light on the true nature of that relationship.”

  “Overruled for now,” the judge said. “But my patience is wearing thin.”

  “The truth, Ms. Sutter,” Elise said.

  I could feel the gallery behind me start to shift as people moved in their seats. My blood ran cold. I felt as if I were about to experience a slow motion train wreck.

  “You left Waynetown because you didn’t want to be anywhere near Christopher Sutter, isn’t that true? Isn’t that what you confessed to Skylar Sutter?”

  Nikki began to cry. Her lip quivered. She looked straight at Mickey. “She told you that? It doesn’t matter. They’re all dead now.”

  “Objection!” I said. “Your Honor ...”

  “I’ve made my ruling,” Denholm said.

  Elise practically stalked in front of the lectern. “Ms. Sutter, please answer. Why did you really leave Waynetown?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I didn’t want to be around them anymore. It took me a long time to really process what happened to me.”

  “What happened to you?” Elise asked.

  “Why do I have to say?” she implored. “What difference does this make?”

  “Your Honor, please instruct the witness to answer.”

  I felt a trap door open beneath me.

  “Please answer the question, Ms. Sutter,” the judge said.

  Nikki Sutter took one heaving breath. Then she answered. “Uncle Chris was ... he’d been inappropriate with me.”

  There were gasps behind me. I knew Luke and Rachel Sutter sat in the corner of the gallery. I heard Luke shout something, then the doors to the courtroom slammed shut. Hojo swore under his breath.

  “Inappropriate how?” Elise asked.

  “Your Honor,” I said. “This has no bearing on …”

  “Overruled,” Judge Denholm said before I could even finish my objection. He couldn’t. He wasn’t …

  “He molested me,” Nikki said. “Okay? Is that what you want me to say? My Uncle Chris was a pervert.”

  Mickey Harvey’s words during his interrogation flooded into my brain. He’d said Skylar’s father wasn’t a good guy. There was only one way Mickey could know this secret. Skylar had to have told him. I wanted to be angry with Nikki for keeping it from me. But how could I?

  “When did this happen?” Elise asked.

  I was still on my feet. “Your Honor,” I said. “I implore you. We have gone so far down the road away from the issues at hand in this case.”

  “Overruled, Ms. Brent,” the judge said. “You may answer, Ms. Sutter.”

  Lord. Good lord, no. Nikki Sutter was falling apart. Pain etched deep lines in her face. No matter what else happened today, I knew in my gut she was telling the truth.

  “It started when I was about twelve,” she said, hiccupping past a sob. “I used to babysit Skylar. I was asleep on the couch after she went to bed. She was little. Like four. I woke up and Uncle Chris was ... he was drunk ... and he had his hands on me. Under my shirt, over my pants, between my legs.”

  “Was that the only time this happened?” Elise said.

  Nikki shook her head. “No,” she said. “It went on for a long time. I didn’t ... I didn’t know what to do. He would corner me. Touch me. There was so much chaos with Kevin, I didn’t want to tell my parents. They had so much to deal with. I thought maybe I was imagining it. And he ... Uncle Chris ... he told me if I ever told anyone, he’d hurt me. Or he’d hurt my mom and dad. I believed him. You have to know ... he was …”

  “He was what, Nikki?” Elise asked.

  “It took a long time to process this. I’ve been working on myself in therapy since I left Waynetown. I thought it was my fault. I thought maybe I’d done something to bring it on. But then …”

  “Then what?” Elise asked.

  “I found out it wasn’t just me,” she said, sniffling.

  “You’re saying your Uncle Chris didn’t just molest you?” she asked.

  Nikki shook her head. “No,” she said. “There were other cousins. My Uncle C.J.’s granddaughters. They don’t live in Waynetown anymore either. I think it’s because of that.”

  “Objection,” I said. “Counsel is eliciting hearsay testimony about what the witness’s cousins may or may not have told her.”

  “Sustained,” the judge said. “Ms. Sutter, you will need to confine your testimony to things you personally observed or experienced, not what you may have been told.”

  “Ms. Sutter,” Elise said. “Did you ever confront Chris Sutter about what he’d done to you?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Right before I left for Seattle. A few years ago.”

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing happened. He laughed it off.”

  “Did you ever tell anyone else in the family about what happened to you?” Elise asked.

  “My mom knows. It’s why she left Waynetown as well. She lives in Seattle with me. She wants nothing to do with the Sutter family anymore. Especially now that Kevin’s gone. It’s hard. They weren’t in a good place before he died. I think given time, they would have repaired their relationship. At least, I’d like to think that. I didn’t know Kevin was using again. I thought he was doing so much better.”

  She quietly cried.

  “I’m so sorry,” Elise said. “I’d just like to say I think you’re very brave, Nikki. I have just a few more questions. Did you know if Jenny Sutter was aware of your accusations against her husband?”

  She wiped a hand across her brow. Her fingers trembled.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Skylar knew.”

  “How do you know that?” Elise asked.

  “Because we got in a fight. The last time I talked to her, she ... she called me a liar. It got ugly.”

  “When was this, if you recall?” Elise asked.

  I chanced a look behind me at the gallery. All of the Sutters had left the courtroom. Of the victims’ families, only Ben Sr. and Gina Watson remained. Both had tears streaming down their faces. Ben Sr.’s face reddened with rage.

  “Last Christmas. I came to town to spend it with my brother. My mom took a vacation with my stepdad. I didn’t want Kevin to be alone. We got into a fight. Skylar had been drinking. She said some things. I said some things. I told her about what her father did to me. My therapist told me she thought it would be good for me. It just came out all wrong. She didn’t believe me. She called me a liar and a slut and a bunch of other things. I just regret it all.”

  “Where did this conversation take place?” Elise asked. “Who else was present?”

  “It was just Sky and me. We were at Kevin’s. She and Mickey were over at Kevin’s because she was fighting with her folks. They did
n’t approve of Mickey.”

  “Did you?” Elise asked.

  “I don’t ... I didn’t see them together. Mickey was on his way out. He was at my brother’s with Sky, but he left. They’d just gotten into an argument too.”

  “Do you know why?” Elise asked.

  “He said Sky got violent when she drank and he didn’t want to be around that energy,” Nikki said. It was barely more than a whisper.

  “Can you repeat that?” Elise asked.

  “I said hello to him in passing as he was leaving Kevin’s. Mickey looked upset. He was on his way out. He said he couldn’t stay because Sky got violent when she drank.”

  “Skylar got violent,” Elise said. “Thank you, I have no further questions.”

  I rose. Anger clouded my vision. I stared straight at the judge and asked if I could approach. My nails dug into my palms as I made my way to the sidebar. Elise was right behind me.

  “Your Honor,” I said through clenched teeth. “At this time, the state would like to move for a mistrial.”

  Judge Denholm straightened. “Bailiff, will you please excuse the jury for the day?”

  Then he turned to us. “You two, in chambers. Now.”

  31

  “Your Honor!” I said. He’d asked us to sit. I was in no mood. Instead, I paced at the back of Judge Denholm’s office chambers. Elise sat calmly in the chair in front of him. His court reporter sat with her fingers poised over her keyboard. We were on the record.

  “Make your motion, counselor,” he said. “It’s just the four of us. No one to perform for in here.”

  I felt my cheeks heat. I needed a ten count, or I was going to blow. I took one attempt at a calming breath, then whirled around.

  “This entire line of questioning was improper and prejudicial. As sickening as we may find it all, Chris Sutter’s alleged conduct toward his niece more than fifteen years ago is irrelevant. It should never have been allowed.”

  “I disagree, Ms. Brent,” Denholm said. “I ruled on your objections in the courtroom. I haven’t changed my mind.”

  “Then I’d like to renew my motion for a mistrial,” I said. “There is absolutely no way the jury can come to an impartial decision. We’ve veered so far off the map of the true issues in this case. Chris Sutter isn’t on trial. He’s dead, for God’s sakes. Nikki Sutter wasn’t even living in Waynetown when these murders took place. She’s not a suspect and never was.”

  “Any response from you, Ms. Weaver?” Denholm said.

  “Your Honor, I think it’s patently obvious this case was rushed to trial. The police were never interested in exploring any other plausible motive for these killings. It is absolutely within the defendant’s rights to explore alternate theories of the case. They’ve got the wrong guy. I’m allowed to show the jury other potential suspects.”

  “Who?” I asked. “Who exactly are you trying to say killed those people instead of your client? The one who was overheard threatening to kill Skylar Sutter just days before her death. Who has a history of violence against her. Who supplied another of the victims with elicit narcotics and had a legitimate beef with every single victim on that farm, Dr. Weaver?”

  “That’s the detective’s job,” Elise said, wryly. “My burden isn’t to solve this case for you, Mara. It’s to raise reasonable doubt.”

  “I take it you formally object to the prosecution’s motion for a mistrial?” the judge asked.

  “Certainly,” Elise said. “The state has failed to show adequate grounds that there has been any procedural error or misconduct that would amount to an unfair trial. Courts aren’t permitted to grant mistrials just because the prosecution has come to realize it’s losing.”

  “This has nothing to do with that,” I said. “This has to do with this court allowing the defense to use this trial as a vehicle to air things that have nothing whatsoever to do with what happened to that family on May 18th. She’s going for headlines and podcast fodder, not what’s legally relevant here.”

  The smarmy look on Elise Weaver’s face took me back to my first year of law school. She knew it.

  “Your Honor,” she said. “Again, it is entirely within the defense’s province to explore alternative theories about what happened that night. These are relevant issues. And as you’ve stated, Ms. Brent had the opportunity to raise her objections in open court. There’s no prejudice here.”

  “With all due respect,” I said. “Your Honor has lost control of these proceedings. They’ve become sensational, tabloid material, nothing more. For heaven’s sake. Just look out your own window.”

  He did. Judge Denholm’s office faced Cleveland Street and the front of the courthouse. They parked three live news trucks along the curb. A crowd had formed.

  “My God,” I said as I stepped closer to the window. “That’s your clerk! Elise ... your office is giving a press conference?”

  “There’s no law or order against that,” she said. “And I’ve authorized no such thing. I can’t help it if there is a public interest in this trial.”

  “No,” I said. “You’re counting on it.”

  “Enough,” Judge Denholm said. “I’m not granting a mistrial in this case. You haven’t raised sufficient grounds. You’re free to make your argument to the jury during your closing arguments, Ms. Brent. And you’ll have your shot at rebuttal. The case goes forward.”

  He looked at the clock on the wall. “But not today. It’s past three. We’ll adjourn until bright and early tomorrow morning.”

  He left me speechless. It took everything in me not to storm out of there and slam the door in Elise Weaver’s face as I left.

  “Mara,” she said softly as we both entered the hallway.

  “This is beneath you,” I said. “All you’re doing is revictimizing that family. This isn’t about justice. This is about you drumming up interest so your agent can get you an on-air gig or a book deal.”

  Her lip twitched. A small tell, but I knew I’d hit on it.

  “No,” she said, composing herself. “This is beneath you, Mara. What are you doing here?”

  “My job,” I spat back.

  “You don’t belong here. Waynetown, Ohio? Really? I understood it when I heard you’d taken this job. It made sense in light of your husband’s aspirations. Though I’ll admit, it disappointed me. You were always a more talented lawyer than he was. But you got complacent, Mara. You’ve settled.”

  “What I do with my personal and professional life is none of your business,” I said.

  “Isn’t it?” she said. “I gave you everything I could. I invested in you. But you should be heading the Justice Department. Solicitor general. Even a governor.”

  “This is my town,” I said. “Do you get that? My town. I’m not going to stand by while you rip it apart to further your own jaded ambitions, Elise.”

  “You’re more like me than you think,” she said.

  “We’re done here,” I said. “I’m going home. And I’ll sleep easy tonight. Can you honestly say the same?”

  Her eyes flickered. I knew I’d scored a hit. But she said nothing. She just pasted on a smile, readjusted the strap of her briefcase and turned on her heel.

  She got into the elevator as Hojo was coming out. He came to me.

  “What was that?” he asked.

  “Disaster,” I said.

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get out of here. You look like you could use a drink. I’m buying. We’ll have to sneak out the service entrance. The street’s crawling with reporters. They’re out for blood.”

  A sobering thought, knowing the blood they meant to draw was mine.

  32

  The look on Kenya’s face told me news of my mistrial motion had already reached her. Hojo had beat me back to the office by a few minutes.

  “What the hell is he thinking?” Kenya asked. I met her in her office. For the moment, I didn’t want to go back to mine. I didn’t want to go to the war room and see the lifeless faces of the Sutter Seven staring up
at me from the crime scene photos. Judging me. Pleading at me from the grave.

  “He’s thinking about his career,” I spat. “He’s thinking about making himself famous.”

  “That podcast about the case is charting,” Hojo said. “It’s the number one true crime show in the U.S. right now.”

  “Can we shut it down?” I asked. “Is there any way to …”

  “No,” Kenya said. “Like it or not, the Cullen kid’s got a right to put on his show.”

  “Well,” Hojo said. “Denholm should close the courtroom to spectators then.”

  “Not happening,” I said. I went to Kenya’s window. There were picketers lined up in the streets. Some pro-Sutter family, some pro-Harvey family.

  “Did we know?” Kenya asked. “All this stuff about Christopher Sutter?”

  “No,” I said. “I had no idea. I interviewed Nikki Sutter and Dev Francis. So did Sam. They never said a word to me. At the same time, I never asked.”

  “Why would you?” Hojo said. “Like you said in court, whether he was a monster or not, Chris Sutter is one of the victims in this case. He’s not on trial.”

  Heavy footsteps drew my attention from the hallway. Breathless, face flushed, Sam Cruz got to Kenya’s office.

  “Good,” Kenya said, her tone hard. “You were my next phone call. What the hell, Sam? Why are we just hearing about these allegations against Chris Sutter now?”

  “You think I would have kept something like that out of my report?” he said. “Christ, Kenya. You know me better than that.”

  “She’s going to say you rushed to judgment on Mickey Harvey,” Kenya said. “That’s her whole closing argument.”

  “She’s brilliant,” I said. “And I’ve let her play me from day one.”

  Rage came over me, boiling my blood. I held my notebook in my hand. Before I could stop myself, I hurled the thing against Kenya’s wall.

  Kenya pursed her lips but did little more than give me an approving nod. I sat down hard in one of her chairs. Hojo took one against the wall. Kenya leaned against her credenza and gestured for Sam to take the seat beside me.